Page 120 of The Future Play

I spin on my heel, remembering the moment from two years ago when I told him he couldn’t crash an event to apologize. I thought we’d come so far since then, but as I walk away, I’m hit with the same ugly feeling of being second best—of not being anyone’s firstchoice.

Jamie waitedfor me after the event and ordered a car service to take us home, but I wasn’t going to get into it in the car.

The second we’re through the apartment door, though, he immediately starts apologizing.

“I’m sorry. I?—”

“Where were you?”

He swallows hard. “Tonight’s game was rough, so a couple of the guys offered to help me out.”

“And it had to betonight?”

“I played like shit tonight, and I wanted to work through some of it while it was fresh in my mind.”

Baseball will always be his first love.

The sting of that moment hits me all over again. He prioritized me. He spent months proving he cared for me before we made things official, and since then, he’s continued to do that… until things have gotten difficult with baseball.

Did I ever come first?

“I’m sorry you had a tough game, but that’s no excuse for you not being there tonight. Not only was it an important cause, but it was deeply important to me. I go to every single game I can be at for you. I travel with the team. I work my schedule and my life around what you do, and the one thing—the one night—I ask for, and you couldn’t show up for me. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”

“I do?—”

“It’s not just that I wanted to share it with you, it’s that I wanted your support. I wanted my person to put me first, and you didn’t. Your career is important, and I’ve known since we started doing this that it’s not something to take lightly. I’ve accepted that I can’t always be your priority, and I’m okay with that. But tonight, you chose baseball over me when you didn’t have to. That hurts.”

“I’m sorry.” I know he is. I can see it on his face. But words don’t mean much right now.

“I’m going to take a shower.”

Finding the clothes I set out for myself earlier, I head for the bathroom and lock the door. He can use the guest bathroom if he needs to. I need peace. Space to think.

I take off my pretty black dress, and toe off my heels, then I stare at myself in the mirror. Tears prickle my eyes. I don’t bother trying to blink them back.

Steam fills up the room as I turn the water on burn-my-skin-off hot.

Numbly, I climb inside and go through the motions. I’m halfway through washing my hair when the sobs hit. I remember the way he helped me shower when I was sick, how he took care of me. He chose me over baseball, and I’d never felt more wanted—and even though we hadn’t said it yet, I’d never felt more loved.

I finish rinsing the conditioner out of my hair, then lean against the back wall of the shower and sink to the floor, giving into the body shaking sobs.

Is this what our future looks like? Me begging to be chosen again? My chest tightens at the thought. I’m trying to trust that Jamie wouldn’t do that to me, but today he showed me what was more important to him. Maybe it was just once, but it did damage to my already fragile heart. The urge to put my walls up, be mean, and push him away is strong, but that’s not what a healthy relationship is, so I let myself cry it out until I’m ready to face it all again, even though I’m hoping he’ll already be in bed, so I can just go to sleep.

After getting dried off and dressed in comfy clothes, I walk back into the bedroom to find all the lights on, and Jamie sitting on the bed with two lap trays of sushi on the bed in front of him.

Tears well in my eyes again, and he walks over to me, pulling me into his arms. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, babe. We got done early with the game, and I planned to practice for forty-five minutes, then head to the event and be there when I said I would,but I accidentally left my phone in my cubby and lost track of time. Then there was traffic—I…” He runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. I hate myself for missing it. I’m insanely proud of you, and I missed out on seeing the best of it because of a stupid decision on my part. I hate that I hurt you, when all I wanted to do was celebrate you. I know my words can’t fix it, but I needed you to know.” He kisses my forehead. “I love you, and I’m honored to be your partner. I’m sorry I didn’t show you that tonight.”

He steps back and cradles my face in his hands, looking into my eyes.

It’s so frustrating that in moments like this I still crave his touch even though he’s the one that hurt me. I can’t tell him it’s all okay when it isn’t, but I don’t want to live in my anger and hurt, either. So I lean against him again, holding him tightly.

He runs his fingers through my hair, and I look over at the bed.

“When did you get that?”

“I had it delivered before I left for the stadium.”

That’s the boy I know.

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